


Clan of Sun and Spice

by Layla_Sanura



Series: Clearblue [5]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layla_Sanura/pseuds/Layla_Sanura
Summary: Clearblue is tested when another Oba visits St. Louis under mysterious circumstances.
Relationships: Asher (Anita Blake)/Original Character(s)
Series: Clearblue [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725550
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Clan of Sun and Spice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucdarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucdarling/gifts).



> The events of _Clan of Sun and Spice_ begin three months after _Intermezzo_.

**Chapter 1: Background**

By mid-February, Clearblue was more settled in her role as Oba. There had been a string of hectic weeks in December when she was scrambling to fulfill her promise to add more women to the clan—but that job done, things evened out and she maintained her work schedule fairly easily.

The process of recruiting females to the St. Louis bouda had revealed three things: first, the neighboring clans were few and far between; second, their numbers were nothing compared to the Kabultiloa; and third, these clans had an abundance of female members who were willing to move, and did not request individuals in return—which was perfect, as Clearblue hadn’t wanted to trade many of her own people. In fact, she’d been surprised at the level of interest the Kabultiloa drew when she made inquires in other states: most of the smaller hyena groups lacked organizational structure, and she learned that some even lacked an Oba and lived more like a collection of rouges, rather than as a true cackle. Once Clearblue introduced herself as Oba and mentioned the size of her clan, she often needed to say nothing more—the other party was immediately enthusiastic about joining.

The only major change in her schedule was leaving the office early some Fridays for the mandatory mixer she’d established at Narcissus in Chains. Every other Friday evening from six to nine PM, the entire Kabultiloa Clan congregated at the bondage club (which Jean-Claude now owned but the hyenas continued to operate) to mingle around a buffet of snacks and drinks. The first few went so well that she’d opened the invitation to any rouge hyenas in the area searching for a home or point of contact. The mixers began around Christmas, after their numbers grew from the low four-hundreds to the mid-six-hundreds with the addition of more women. And because their membership was now only a scant hundred short of the wolves, Clearblue commissioned the chef and kitchen staff at the Lunatic Café to cater the hyena meetings and paid them well for their effort. Richard was quite amenable to this arrangement, and Micah praised her for strengthening weregroup relations.

Also as a result of the huge jump in membership, Clearblue had taken Anita up on her offer to rent her house for the same amount she’d paid for her apartment, and had moved in on New Year’s Day. The extra space had come in handy many times since: Clover, Ares, and Bacchus were frequent guests, and a rotating handful of rouges spent nights in the spare bedrooms. In the capacity of Intra-Coalition liaison, she had given house keys to Rafael, Richard, Donovan, Asher, Clover, and Ares (Anita and Micah kept the copies they already had) and maintained an open-door policy for any weres in need of a place to go. Micah had taught her and Clover how to take the beasts of other lycanthropes, and they were especially sensitive to Anita’s particular condition (which, thankfully, had yet to rear its head).

**Chapter 2: Mysterious Missive**

When Clearblue arrived home on Thursday evening, she was greeted happily by Bacchus with a big hug and a peck on the cheek, per the Kabultiloa’s new greeting. She hadn’t liked the facial rubbing of the other groups, and so had abbreviated her clan’s salutation to a simple kiss.

“Hey Bach, what’s up?” She hung up her coat and sat heavily at the kitchen table. “Have you already eaten?”

“Nope, I was waiting for you.” He opened the oven door and pulled out a box of pizza he’d kept warm and then joined her at the table with two plates.

“Ooh, veggie, my favorite. How sweet!” Clearblue reached over and swept a hand through his curly black hair, and he leaned into her touch. She took a large bite of her first slice. As she chewed, she observed Bacchus looking nervously at the pile of mail on the end of the table to her left. She swallowed and asked, “What is it?”

He grabbed the envelope that sat on top and placed it near her hand on the table. “You got a letter.”

“And?”

“And it smells weird.” He paused before adding, “And it’s from Morocco.”

Clearblue picked up the letter in her left hand and looked it over as she finished her slice. It was forwarded from her old apartment address and did indeed smell strange: the odor was reminiscent of ginger, but earthier. Added to this were the thick yellowish grade of the envelope, and a winding, calligraphy-like flow of handwriting. The receiving address was printed in English, but the return address was in Arabic. She quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s from Morocco?”

“My family’s Tunisian; I’m third-generation. I can only speak a little Arabic, but I’m better at reading it. The return address is in Fes, Morocco.”

“Huh.” She wiped her hands on a napkin and opened the envelope. After momentarily scanning the same looping, poised handwriting she looked up at Bacchus. “It’s dated January thirteenth; it must have taken the post office a while to forward it here.” She read through the contents and her expression grew more serious. “It’s from the Oba of a clan called the Idrisid. She’s coming to visit us next week with a delegation of her hyenas.”

Bacchus gave her wide eyes. “Next week?”

“Yes.” She touched fingers to her temple. “I have to see Asher and Jean-Claude. And then I have to call this Azra woman and get the details. She may be expecting a place to stay.”

“Oh, she included her number. That’s lucky.”

But Clearblue was on her phone, already in the process of asking for Asher on the other end of the line at the Circus of the Damned.

“ _Oui_?”

“Asher, it’s Clearblue. We have a situation. Can I meet you in ten minutes?”

“Of course, _cherie_. You are always welcome here.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

**Chapter 3: Details**

Clearblue made it to the living room of the Circus in record time: the guards posted by the parking entrance that night were hyenas. She tossed the curtains aside and stalked in with such momentum that she almost ran smack into Asher.

He caught her by the shoulders and smiled encouragingly. “Whatever it is that has you so worked up, we will fix it. Come, sit.”

 _Worked up?_ She touched her cheek and was shocked to find her skin burning. She _was_ worked up. Which meant her subconscious knew the weight of the letter, even though it had yet to register in her forebrain. Bad. Very bad.

Asher led her to the sofa but for the life of her, she couldn’t sit. Hell, she couldn’t even talk. When she opened her mouth all that came out were a few flustered breaths and unintelligible syllables. Frustrated, she shoved the letter into Asher’s hand and crossed her arms.

He read it once, turned the envelope over and skimmed the address information, and then read the message again. Clearblue watched the smile fade from his lips. “Idrisid?” he muttered. “This is certainly unforeseen.”

“I don’t know if she expects quarter for her group. I’m going to call her, but I wanted you to see it before I do.”

“ _Oui_ , call her and I will fetch Jean-Claude.”

And he really did fetch. There were no guards with them in the room (though some were likely on either side of the doors) besides Bacchus, who had accompanied her. When Asher left, she took her phone from her pocket and dialed the number sequence printed on the letter, country code first. The ring was different, but after three of these a woman answered.

“Hallo?” Her voice carried some husk, the accent dreamy and exotic, as if steeped in potent dark tea.

“Azra?”

“ _Iyeh_?”

“This is Clearblue, of St. Louis, United States. You wrote me recently.”

“Clearblue! I was beginning to think I would not hear from you.” Like Asher and Jean-Claude, Azra used formal English, unmarred by contractions or slang.

“I apologize for the delay; I moved in January and the mail service here had to redirect your letter. Are you still planning on making the journey?”

“Why, yes, I have not cancelled my flight yet. I was going to give you until Sunday. My plane arrives Tuesday afternoon. Where shall I direct the car once I am on the ground?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary; I’ll send cars for you. How many individuals will you have? And how long is your stay?”

“I am bringing five of my hyenas; we will be in town for four days, and fly out again next Saturday morning.”

“And will you need lodging?”

She laughed, and the sound fizzed through the phone, pure and vivacious. “How sweet of you to offer! No, we will be staying in the Chase Park Plaza Hotel.”

Clearblue’s eyes widened at that, but she recovered. “Alright, I will arrange the car service, and I’ll see you Tuesday evening, then.”

“I look forward to meeting you, my dear. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead and Clearblue blinked down at the phone in her hand for a moment before she turned to Bacchus.

“Everything okay?” he asked, and began to look nervous again.

Just then, Asher reentered with Jean-Claude and Anita. “We are having visitors, I hear.” Jean-Claude said as he sat in one of the chairs. Clearblue took his blank expression for anxiety.

“Yes, I just spoke with her. Her name is Azra; she’s the Oba of a Moroccan cackle called the Idrisid. She’s bringing five hyenas with her, and their plane is landing Tuesday afternoon. I said I would organize cars to pick them up at the airport and take them to their hotel. They made their own arrangements and won’t need to say with us.” Clearblue had paid attention to the methodical way Anita briefed Jean-Claude with important information: hit all the points with as little emotion as possible.

“There’s something else,” Bacchus chimed in. “Why did you look like that when you hung up?”

Asher glanced between Clearblue and the hyena and waited.

“Oh—it’s just that they’re staying at the Chase Park. That’s an expensive hotel. It sounds like they’re heavily invested in this trip, in more ways than one.”

“Or they could just have money to burn. It’s a good observation, though,” Anita said. “Did Azra say why they’re visiting?”

“No, she didn’t say in the letter or the conversation. I wanted to ask, but thought it would be rude. I mean, why do wereanimals visit each other?” 

Asher answered: “She is probably looking for allies, but why she is coming so far, I cannot guess.”

Clearblue closed her eyes and took a breath. “This is okay. I can do this.” She forced a smile at Bacchus and Asher. “No big deal, right?”

Asher returned her gesture warmly and walked to her. “Yes, you will be fine. Jean-Claude and I have much experience hosting such events. We will all meet Azra here, you and she will talk about whatever her business is, and then she will leave. Did she say how long she will be staying?”

“Four days.”

Asher took her hand and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. “Ah, that is nothing.” His smile grew until she felt the tension drop from her shoulders.

**Chapter 4: Strategy**

Friday afternoon, just following lunch, Clearblue received a text from an unknown number.

_Hi Clearblue, it’s J.J. I hope you don’t mind that Anita gave me your number. I’m in town for the weekend and was wondering if you want to join Jason and me at Danse Macabre tomorrow night. They’re having a big Valentine’s Day party—it should be fun! Let me know. Thanks, J.J._

“Oh, right,” she whispered to herself. She had forgotten both that she was supposed to meet up with J.J. when she came to town, and that the next day was Valentine’s Day. She cringed with equal parts dread and excitement at the thought of what Danse would look like decked out for the holiday.

She texted back: _Sure, I’m in. What time should we meet there?_

J.J. responded within two minutes. _I’m thinking 9:30? Jason’s already reserved a VIP table upstairs. It’ll be great to see you!_

_And you! Tomorrow at 9:30 then._

Clearblue smiled. A distraction from the visitors’ looming arrival on Tuesday would be nice. December and January had felt like a tornado: the only semblance of a social life she’d had was the occasional lunch with Anita and dinner with Clover. Now that she had come into her own with the hyenas, she deserved a night out.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and as the mixers at Narcissus in Chains were the first and third Fridays of the month, she called Clover to meet up that evening. They ate takeout Chinese at his place, and she explained the Idrisid developments, to his astonishment.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked, after swallowing a mound of sweet-and-sour pork.

“Relax, it only happened last night. I knew you had midterms to grade.”

“Still! I need to be a part of these decisions!”

She laughed. “What decisions? There wasn’t much I could’ve done! I spoke to her on the phone and got things settled— _she’s_ the one who’s visiting strangers out of the blue. It would’ve just stressed you out for no reason.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded begrudgingly. “Fine, fine. You’re right.” He paused. “So what do you think this is about?”

“I have _no_ idea. Asher said she might be looking for allies. Allies for what, I don’t know. It seems strange to me.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Have you decided how the meeting will go? Formal, I assume.”

“Yes, formal for sure. She said she’s bringing five hyenas from her clan. Obviously, they’ll be dominants, which means we should ask some of our dominant females to come along, too. I want to have Ares and Bacchus there because they’re part of the guard and know how to fight, but their beasts aren’t dominant. I’m thinking about asking Elise, Tanya, Sara, and Claire.”

Clover grinned. “Good choices. I second those. Why don’t we ask them right now, since we’re both here?”

Clearblue shrugged. “Sure.” She scrolled through her phone contacts for Elise’s number.

The twins called the four women, each time briefly explaining the circumstance and why they needed them. All four agreed, and said they were glad to help. That done, they finished their dinner and talked about Monica, the party at Danse Macabre, and whether J.J. had an ulterior motive.

**Chapter 5: Valentine's Danse**

Clover and Monica were planning to attend the Valentine’s Day bash at Danse Macabre as well, though about two hours after Clearblue. Clover had a romantic date in store that evening, and Monica had dropped Matthew with her mother for the weekend.

Clearblue walked up the curved carpeted stairs to the VIP balcony, gave her name to the bouncer, and passed through the rope. She proceeded slowly toward the back wall, alternately looking for J.J. and surveying the crowd on the dance floor below. The interior of the club was covered in every feasible direction with red, pink, and white decorations: crystal hearts hung from the ceiling, streamers were wrapped around the balcony banisters, and the normally multi-color strobe lights replaced with Cupid’s favorite colors. The staff matched, to boot: the bartenders were in white dress shirts, and the waitstaff in red and pink. It was a stunning transformation.

She spotted J.J. waving at her from a booth in the left corner; beside her sat Jason, and both looked elegant. J.J. wore a silver sequin mini dress in a flapper style that showed off her svelte frame and narrow waist. Jason had donned a black tuxedo with a rose-pink shirt. Clearblue grinned at them and unbuttoned her black knee-length pea coat as she walked over. She shrugged out of the garment and uncovered a crimson velvet strappy frock that seemed painted to her curves and ended mid-thigh. The push-up bra she wore helped to amp-up her bust and the dress displayed it well. She’d accentuated the outfit with four-inch gold stilettos, a gold-plated necklace, and heart-shaped gold studs in her ears. She’d left her hair loose and flowing, her chestnut waves contrasting nicely with the bright red, and taking on some of its color.

As if they’d rehearsed it, J.J. and Jason’s mouths fell open when Clearblue revealed her dress in a flourish, and she was laughing at their reactions by the time she sat across from them at the booth.

J.J. blinked. “Well, don’t you look—” she paused— “festive.”

“Thank you. You two look fabulous.”

They were attended right away by a waiter in red making his rounds. “Complimentary Love Potion shooters,” he said, and placed a shot of foamy pink liquid in front of each of them. He then disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

Clearblue raised her glass. “To an exciting night before things get hairy again.”

Jason and J.J. did the same. “To an exciting night,” they echoed.

The liquid was at once sweet and tangy, but lightweight and went down easily. Clearblue licked her lips before she said to J.J., “Any big shows coming up?”

J.J. smiled and her blue eyes lit up; she brushed strands of wheat-blond hair from her forehead. “Well, the last one was our six-week production of The Nutcracker for the holidays, but we have an upcoming rendition of Coppélia set to start in May that I can’t wait to perform.”

“Wow. And what’s your position?”

She chuckled. “A polite way of asking if I’m the prima ballerina? No, I’m not the star, but I’ve served as understudy in a few productions, and I’m usually in the main supporting cast. I guess it’s weird, but I’ve never had aspirations to be the prima—I’ve always loved the group aspect of dance, of making art with my body alongside other bodies. Being on the stage under the lights, telling a story with limbs and movement has always been enough for me.”

Clearblue mirrored her earnest smile. “That’s lovely.”

“I’ve encouraged Jason to apply to some of the ballet programs around here.” J.J. looked at her boyfriend with adoring, slightly teasing eyes. “Stripping may keep him limber, but if he’s serious about dance he needs to get his ass in gear.”

“Believe me, my ass is quite in gear. You said so yourself last night.” Jason grinned broadly as J.J. blushed.

The three shared a laugh and J.J. flagged down one of the circulating waitstaff. This time it was a woman in a pink blouse. “Yes, ma’am?”

“May we have another three of those Love Potions?”

“Of course, I’ll bring them right out.”

“So,” Jason directed at Clearblue. “How’s the life of a were leader treating you? As glamorous as you thought?”

“Oh, it’s everything I wanted and more,” she said facetiously. “But seriously, it’s turned into an unexpected pleasure. To feel so devoted to such a large group of people is pretty amazing.”

“I’m glad you’re doing well. Although, you still have a few things to experience. You haven’t encountered the _ardeur_ yet, have you?”

“No—what’s the _ardeur_?”

**Chapter 6: Casual Conversation**

Three shots and twenty minutes later, Jason finished his explanation of Jean-Claude and Anita’s shared power, which left Clearblue openmouthed.

“That’s just . . . ” She couldn’t finish her thought.

“It’s similar to the way strong wereanimals can sense emotion, except Jean-Claude and Anita can feed from it and use it as a weapon.”

“As a weapon?”

“What’s the quickest way to stop an argument? I’d say making everyone fuck is in the top three.”

“I guess it would be. So it’s a somewhat common thing with Belle Morte’s vampires?”

“All of Belle’s vamps inherit some kind of sexual power, but it’s not always the _ardeur_. Like Asher: he doesn’t have it. His gift is an orgasmic bite, but something tells me you already knew that.” Jason raised his eyebrows at her.

She blushed. “Yes, I’m aware. I suppose I’m lucky that I haven’t witnessed the _ardeur_ , then. It sounds like it would be awkward afterward.”

He shrugged. “It can be if you let it. Anita’s actually been better at controlling it recently, and of course, Jean-Claude’s had it under control for centuries.”

J.J. commented: “When it’s really powerful, which is the only time I’ve experienced it, it’s like a blackout: I didn’t remember the act itself, but all of a sudden I woke up naked next to a stranger.”

Her eyes bulged. “Jesus.”

Their round of Love Potions arrived and J.J. raised her glass for the second toast of the night. “Fuck the _ardeur_ ’s influence!”

Jason snickered. “Appropriate.”

Clearblue laughed and toasted with them.

After another ten minutes of conversation on varying subjects, Jason made one of his many sexually-charged jokes and J.J. dissolved into giggles. He smiled at her suddenly giddy state. “Well, well. Look who’s tipsy!”

J.J. shook her head, but continued to laugh uncontrollably. This made Jason grin wider, and he waved at a passing waiter. “Six more Love Potions, please,” he said without hesitation. The waiter nodded and left. He looked at Clearblue, amused. “Don’t you think we should catch up?”

Clearblue thought first of arguing, but at the recollection of what awaited her on Tuesday, she decided against it.

The drinks arrived and Jason and Clearblue each threw back three in succession. Some minutes later, the five Love Potions she’d consumed began to work their magic and J.J.’s giggles seemed contagious.

J.J. regained control enough to ask, “Whatever happened between you and Asher? I heard something about a falling out. Is that true?”

“Yes and no. We were . . . I guess dating for a while in the beginning, but then he slept with my brother and I wasn’t willing to put up with that. We’re not romantically involved anymore, but still on good terms.”

Jason nodded. “It’s good to hear some people can be more rational about working together than Anita and Richard. The triumvirate was a disaster in the beginning.”

At Clearblue’s prompting, Jason explained the history between Richard, Jean-Claude, and Anita, which again left her taken aback. “Wow. Anita told me about her engagement to Richard and having to choose between him and Jean-Claude, but I didn’t know they’re all metaphysically linked.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty wild. There’s so much potential power when wereanimals and vamps get together.”

“Speak of the devil,” J.J. said quietly, and flicked her eyes to the larger balcony area.

Asher had just passed through security at the top of the stairs and was walking toward them, probably en route to the back office. He was dressed fairly casually in only black slacks, a belt, and a deep red button-up shirt minus a tie, the top two buttons open. Even so, the red against his pale skin, balanced with the bright gold of his hair that shimmered around his shoulders was arresting. His gaze scanned the room and fell upon the three of them at their booth. Clearblue caught his eye and smiled; he paused in step momentarily, but smiled in return and redirected his trajectory.

He reached their table and stood at its head, his fingers playing along its edge. “Clearblue. Good evening. Jason, J.J., lovely to see you.” He nodded to the others in turn. “How are you enjoying Danse tonight?”

“The decorations are beautiful. Jean-Claude always knows how to create an ambiance,” J.J. replied.

Asher said charmingly, “ _Oui_ , that he does. I will pass along your compliment.” He looked to Clearblue. “May I trouble you to speak privately?”

“Yes, quickly. I’m not here in official capacity; I’m just enjoying a night out.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Jason and J.J.

When she stood from her seat, she noticed Asher take in her figure, despite his discretion. He placed a hand at her back and conducted her through the private door to the familiar stark hallway.

She stopped just inside the threshold. “What’s up?”

“Since you are here, I would like to check in about Tuesday. I have not heard from you; I do not know where we stand.”

“I’ve spoken with Clover about it and brought him into the loop. Since Azra is arriving with hyenas from her clan, we called four of our dominant females to join us as well. They agreed and will report to the Circus at seven PM on Tuesday.”

Asher nodded. “Very good. And of course, we shall have the guard there per usual.” He closed his mouth, but looked as if he was holding something back.

When he didn’t continue, Clearblue asked, “What is it?”

He paused and laced his fingers together. “I am glad you came to me right away when you first received the letter. However, you only consult me in emergencies, or when you need advice. I am not on your immediate contact list, as Clover is. Of course, he should be kept apprised, but so should I, Clearblue. I am beholden to the hyenas as well. I feel that you keep me at arm’s length regarding these matters.”

“That’s absurd. I don’t deliberately keep things from you.”

“No, but you are not forthcoming, either. When you and Clover discussed things and called your dominants, did you also think to call me?”

She put a hand to her hip and opened her mouth, but stopped short. He was right. “Asher.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I need to involve you more.”

“ _Oui_. After this business with Azra is finished, I would like to start attending your bi-monthly meetings at Narcissus in Chains. I feel that is an appropriate steppingstone.”

She looked intently into his face and observed his cautiously set lips and the slight flinching expression around his eyes. As difficult and awkward as their situation had been for her, she hadn’t realized that it was the same for him. He had given her space in the beginning, hadn’t pushed or forced anything, and she supposed she’d gotten used to having the hyenas to herself and Clover. “Yes, alright. We can definitely do that.”

Asher beamed, and in the gesture displayed his beauty in its most acute form. “ _Merci_. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Have a wonderful evening.”

She shook her head. “Not a problem. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He bowed, still grinning. “And to you.”

**Chapter 7: The Kiss**

Clearblue rejoined her friends at their booth and was greeted by the addition of Clover and Monica. They had reorganized the seating: now Jason and Clover shared one side while the women sat on the other. Clearblue squeezed in beside J.J. and fell into the conversation about Monica’s fabulous date.

Clover had ordered food from a premier Italian restaurant downtown and arranged an intimate setting of rose petals, candles, and wine at his apartment. Before Monica came over for dinner, he had treated her to a manicure and massage, and combined with being temporarily child-free, she was looking radiant. Clearblue and J.J. dutifully swooned over the couple’s amorous evening, and J.J. good-naturedly ribbed Jason about not being more romantic with her.

Over the next hour-and-a-half, talk moved to J.J.’s next visit in April, Monica’s semi-retirement from practicing law in favor of teaching government courses at the community college, and the possibility of Jason’s participation in another dance recital in the upcoming months. These subjects were punctuated with drinks and everyone except perhaps Clover was feeling superbly happy—so much so that when J.J. placed her hand on Clearblue’s thigh, she almost didn’t notice it. Almost. She gave J.J. a sidelong glance and saw the other woman looking at her with that particular heat in her eyes and a mischievous grin.

Though Clover had agreed not to pursue Asher sexually, he had not committed to complete abstinence, proof of which was his increasingly serious relationship with Monica. This was fine with Clearblue, even if she had enforced categorical abstinence on herself since November. In fact, she had been so stanch in this that the idea of seeing other people had not occurred to her. But when J.J. made her intensions known in that subtle way, a desire she had not felt in some time crawled up into her consciousness. She placed her own hand gingerly atop J.J.’s still on her leg, never breaking her attention to what Monica was saying.

The party at Danse Macabre was by no means over at one AM, but that was about the time their night came to an end. It started when Clover yawned, and Monica rested her head on his shoulder; shortly thereafter they announced they were heading out. Jason and J.J. said they might as well leave too, and so the five of them gathered their coats and wound through the crowded balcony and down the stairs. Monica and Clover said goodbye at the main door. With a sly smile, Jason said he would bring the car around to the front and walked out with the couple. That left J.J. and Clearblue conveniently alone.

J.J. took her wrist and led her to a nook by the coat check where they found more solitude. Clearblue was expecting an explanation or lead-in and so was quite surprised when J.J. said nothing, but caressed a finger down her cheek and kissed her with sensual sweetness. After a fleeting hesitation, Clearblue returned the kiss and slipped fingers into her wispy hair. J.J. pressed her torso against hers and ran hands down her sides until she pulled away, breathless.

“I’m staying at the Holiday Inn on Hampton Avenue. Jason offered me a room at the Circus, but it’s awfully busy there,” J.J. said softly, and kept a hand on Clearblue’s hip.

Clearblue smiled, regard evident in her eyes. “It can be that way, yes.”

***

At eight the next morning, Clearblue’s eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar ceiling and she had a nanosecond panic attack before she remembered—and then it all tumbled back, each recollection coming faster than the former. Danse Macabre. The drinks. The kiss. J.J. She looked slowly to her left and saw the individual in question sleeping on her stomach. Just as slowly, she lifted the sheets of the large bed and found herself naked. _Shit._ She spotted her purse perched on the bedside table and searched through it as quietly as possible for her phone.

The text she sent to Clover was in all capitals, and therefore meant business: _PICK ME UP AT THE HOLIDAY INN ON HAMPTON._

Her phone vibrated within ten seconds with a return text: _What are you doing THERE?_

_I’ll tell you later, just get here._

_On my way._

Dressing without waking the unconscious J.J. was also a difficult task, but she pulled it off. All her things gathered, she slipped silently into the hall and muffled the door as it closed behind her.

Clover was already laughing at the sight of a bedraggled Clearblue hurrying out the front doors. She jumped into his car as if it was sanctuary from the Boogie Man.

He began, “So what—”

“Just drive.”

He smiled and did as he was told. When they arrived at the house he parked in the driveway and went in with her. At the kitchen table with a mug of tea steeping, Clearblue wrote J.J. an apology text.

_Sorry I couldn’t stay; lots to do with the hyenas. Hope to see you and Jason again soon._

She showed her message to Clover before she sent it.

“It’s good, for a booty call text,” he replied, between a swig of tea and a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and pressed _Send_. “Dare I ask what you’re smiling about?”

“Oh nothing,” he said melodramatically, and looked away.

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stared at him.

“It’s just that I thought you were Ms. Relationship—never had a one-night stand, never a fling. But now, as soon as an attractive woman shows an interest, you hop into bed with her. What gives?”

Clearblue groaned and pressed her forehead to the cool wood of the table. “I know. That’s exactly what I thought this morning: What got into me?”

“And?”

She lifted her head. “I honestly don’t know for sure. I had the impression J.J. likes me, and I already knew Jason’s a big flirt, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything about it. I just wanted to decompress and have an exhilarating night. But then Asher was there and we talked—”

“You saw Asher?”

“Yeah. He asked to speak to me privately.” At Clover’s raised eyebrow, she added quickly, “It was all business, but he talked about how he didn’t think you and I are keeping him as in the loop about the hyenas as he thinks he should be. Which, actually, is true. I told him I would try harder, and said he could start coming to the meetings at the club.” She closed her eyes. “But the point is that I haven’t seen too much of him in recent weeks, and only at the Circus when I do. To run into him out of his element, so to speak, looking as beautiful as ever—at a Valentine’s party no less—and being so cooperative, it was jarring, to say the least. I wanted to touch him, hug him, something.”

After a beat, he asked, “So you touched J.J. instead?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. J.J. is her own person, beautiful in her own way. If it was just displaced lust, I think I would’ve chosen a man to take home." She blew hair away from her forehead and propped her chin in her hand. “I think it’s more that, this month is the first time I’ve had a chance to breathe since November. It’s been non-stop with the hyenas and working with the other groups. Last night, I finally took a deep breath.”

Clover was comically confused. “And realized you’re horny?”

She snorted into her mug and choked on tea as it went up her nose. After a minute of alternately coughing and laughing, she settled down enough to say, “I realized there’s more to life than profession and obligation. And I want it. I mean, I don’t have to look any further than this table. You have things pretty well balanced: you’re teaching the classes you always dreamed of, you’re a godsend to me with the hyenas, and you’re getting serious with Monica and Matthew. You practically have your own family now, a whole separate life.”

He reached across and clasped her hand. “You’ll get there too, Clear. In your own way and your own time.”

Clearblue nodded and squeezed his hand.

**Chapter 8: Revelation**

When Anita walked through her office door Monday morning, Clearblue cursed aloud: “Damnit.”

Anita frowned in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to call you. I’m eating with J.J. today.”

“With J.J.? I thought she was only here for the weekend?”

“Her plane leaves at four this afternoon. I said I’d take her out for an early lunch. I’m so sorry, Anita.”

“No problem.” Anita shrugged. “I know you’ve been anxious about our visitation tomorrow. I just didn’t think that you and J.J. were close.”

Clearblue laughed disparagingly and swiped fingers across her forehead. “We’re not. We, uh— well, I spent the night at her hotel on Saturday. After we left Danse.”

Anita was always so confident that only when her mouth fell open and her eyes bulged did Clearblue realize she’d never seen her surprised before.

“My thoughts exactly. I left pretty quickly Sunday morning, so this is my apology.”

“I thought you were abstinent?”

“I was, until that night.”

“What changed?”

Clearblue shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe seeing Asher. Maybe getting caught up in the attention J.J. gave me. The atmosphere, something.”

Anita was contemplative. “Does Asher know? Have you talked to him about it?”

She replied slowly, “No, I haven’t. I didn’t know if I should or not.”

“You and he agreed to abstinence. That means he needs to know.”

“Not complete abstinence, he still has you and . . .” she trailed off when Anita shook her head. 

“He isn’t sleeping with us, together or separately. Not since November.”

Clearblue blinked and her eyes oscillated as she thought. “But I wasn’t specific. I just meant that he and I weren’t going to sleep together anymore.”

“Haven’t you been completely abstinent until Saturday?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why does it surprise you that he is, too?”

“Because he’s . . . ” She waved a hand in the air, gesturing for what she couldn’t say.

Anita smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “I guess he’s still capable of surprising you. He hasn’t touched me or Jean-Claude or anyone else at the Circus, except to feed, since you spoke with him in November. And now it looks like you have some explaining to do to him.”

**Chapter 9: A United Front**

The lunch with J.J. wasn’t as bad as she was expecting. Not bad at all, in fact. J.J. wasn’t offended that she’d left so hastily Sunday morning. Her only regret was that she didn’t get to see more of Clearblue this time. They had talked about work, friends, J.J. and Jason’s long-distance relationship, and the concessions they made to keep it strong. Apparently, they allowed a certain amount of sexual leeway on both sides that was acceptable so long as it didn’t interfere in the primary relationship. It was an alien concept to Clearblue; she asked many questions and J.J. was candid in her answers. At the conclusion of the hour-and-a-half meal, they parted on friendly terms, and Clearblue was actually looking forward to seeing her again in April.

On Tuesday, Clearblue had booked her schedule full of client meetings so she wouldn’t have time to look at the clock and worry. Accordingly, at five-thirty that afternoon on her way home, the first jolt of anxiety announced itself for what was in store that night. She, Clover, and Asher had coordinated their clothes ahead of time: Asher had requested that they wear the gifts he’d given them for their birthday. She had argued about it privately with her brother, but acquiesced in the end. The gown was beautiful, after all, and she hadn’t had occasion to wear it yet.

She found her house thankfully empty of company, and scooted into her bedroom. She stripped down to her undergarments and stood before her vanity to style her hair. For the last few formal events she’d gone with a French twist; this time, for some diversity, she decided on a large sophisticated bun at the back of her head, made to look loose (though in fact was held tightly with pins and hairspray). She left three or four thin locks of hair free around her face, and added a bit more bounce to them with a curling iron. Next, she donned the jewelry she’d received from Asher: a sapphire pendant on a gold necklace and sapphire drop earrings also rimmed with gold. And finally, she slipped the lightweight dress over her head. It was entirely silk: primarily of vivid indigo, with its hemlines trimmed in gold. It whispered down the length of her body as it fell in place and looked just as stunning as she remembered. The finishing touches were gold fabric slipper flats she’d bought for the outfit, a dusting of blush, eyeliner and mascara, and a pale gold faux fur coat.

Miraculously, Clearblue had enough time to inhale a dinner of leftovers from the fridge before Clover picked her up at six-fifteen. He was dressed, per their discussion, in a black tuxedo, black bow tie, and a lovely emerald satin shirt that was the perfect companion to the emerald studs in his ears, and both the shirt and the earrings brought out the deep green of his eyes. She saw he’d had his hair cut over the weekend—not too drastic, but it was noticeably neat.

The ten-minute drive to the Circus felt like an hour. They seemed to hit all the red lights and get stuck behind the slowest drivers in the Mid-West. After a pensive, silent ride, the twins met Ares and Bacchus in the parking lot and walked in the side entrance with them. Once inside, the differences were subtle but immediately evident to those who frequented the Circus with any regularity: the rat and wolf guards posted at the door were more presentable than usual in black slacks, belts, and black button-up shirts, and instead of the usual two there were four this evening. They greeted Clearblue and Clover by their official titles and didn’t joke with Bacchus and Ares, their friends and fellow guard members. The formality made Clearblue nervous, and she put real effort into keeping the pit feeling out of her stomach. 

Two of the guards accompanied them downstairs and drew the curtains aside for their party. The always-impressive living room was accentuated with bouquets of white roses on the fireplace mantel and coffee tables and the air carried a very slight lemon fragrance, indicative of a recent thorough cleaning. Jean-Claude and Anita sat together on the long white sofa. The Master wore a traditional black-and-white tuxedo and Anita complemented him in a knee-length black pencil dress with low neckline that effortlessly revealed her ample bust. Her four-inch spike heels were white patent leather with tiny decorative black bows on the toes. Asher stood nearby dressed in flashier attire: a black tux with gold satin shirt beneath the jacket and gold bow tie. His hair was down, but slicked back and away from his enthralling face. He raised one eyebrow as the twins walked in, and then the other when a guard graciously helped Clearblue out of her coat.

Asher closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. “ _Ma cherie_ , you are magnificent.”

Clearblue smiled and curtsied to him. “Thank you. And yourself.” Still holding Asher’s hand, she turned to Jean-Claude and Anita and curtsied again. “Master. Thank you for agreeing to host.”

Clover, beside her, bowed respectfully.

“You are very welcome. When shall we expect this Azra’s arrival?”

“Our hyenas will be here at seven, and Azra and her posse at seven-thirty.”

Jean-Claude checked his gleaming wristwatch. “Then we are well on our way. Please—” he extended an arm and smiled— “make yourselves comfortable.”

**Chapter 10: The Infantry**

Clover stood with Asher, Ares, and Bacchus and talked of hyena affairs, while Clearblue sat beside Anita on the sofa.

As everyone in the room had supernatural hearing, Anita settled for a knowing smile and a vague question. “How was your lunch yesterday?”

Clearblue blushed. “It went well.”

“Good to hear. Have you—” She paused as she thought of an appropriate phrase— “notified all interested parties?”

“Not yet. I want to wait until after tonight.”

“You’re right. Everyone’s focused right now; we need to keep it that way as long as possible.” Anita squinted at Clearblue, and noticed for the first time the lines of her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and exhaled. “This is the first formal wereanimal event I’ve presided over as Oba—and a visiting cackle, no less! It would be one thing if it were a meeting with the other city groups; I would feel more comfortable. But representing the St. Louis bouda to outsiders is daunting. Honestly, I’m freaking out a little.”

Anita smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know. I wish there were something I could say or do to ease your mind, but everyone has to go through their first. You have to learn for yourself how these things work, and how you react to them personally. The more you do it, the easier it gets. Just know that you have a great support team here. We won’t let anything go catastrophically wrong.” She punctuated this remark with a wink that made Clearblue chuckle.

Before the conversation could go further, the heavy door at the bottom of the staircase creaked open and everyone turned their heads in that direction. A small group of people walked toward them, the majority of them women, by the sound of heels clacking against the hard stone.

A guard parted the sheer white curtains and announced the additions as they entered. “Ms. Elise; Ms. Claire; Ms. Tanya; and Ms. Sara, alphas of the Kabultiloa Clan.”

Clearblue stood and approached them, and Clover moved into position at her shoulder. The women formed a single-file line before their leaders and in turn kissed first Oba and then Neiterkob on the cheek, and bowed their heads slightly after they did so.

Elise, twenty-seven, and her sister, Claire, twenty-four, were among the first wave of recruited women to join the Kabultiloa, and had been with them since early December. They were originally from an all-female group of forty-five New Orleans hyenas, hardly big enough to merit the name cackle, and had jumped at the chance to join a large and organized clan. They were of Creole and African American blood, and strikingly beautiful. Both were tall (Elise two inches more so), both lean with long limbs and tightly curled black hair that fell, on Elise, to her shoulders, and on Claire, to her middle back. This night, the elder wore a tomboyish ensemble of pin-stripe slacks, a white sequin corset top that mounded her breasts, a tailored black blazer that she’d left unbuttoned, and unassuming hard-heeled black flats. Her earth tone eyeshadow was the only source of color, and brought out her amber-brown eyes wondrously. Claire was more feminine in a flowing aquamarine knee-length frock that tinged her usually hazel eyes blue, silver jewelry to match her silver three-inch pumps, and a whimsical updo held with a blue-and-silver butterfly pin. The sisters’ beasts were formidable, and were experienced fighters: their former clan was made up of rouges and tensions were common.

Tanya had joined shortly after Elise and Claire, and had in that time become Claire’s good friend. She hailed from outside of Gadsden, Alabama and was the epitome of a farmer’s daughter: from the big green eyes and mane of blond hair, to the thick southern accent and charming naiveté. Though at twenty-two she was the youngest of the four, Clearblue had chosen her because she was one of the strongest hyenas in the clan—only she didn’t know it entirely and therefore didn’t show it off. Perhaps Azra would be intimidated by a beast so powerful and yet so subtle. Tanya’s outfit was the most girlish: a light pink lacy empire-waist dress that ended at mid-thigh, paired with pink ballerina slippers with fetching ribbons that wound up to her knees. Her jewelry and makeup were minimal; her only real adornment the waves of corn-blond locks that fell in lively ripples to her lower back.

The last was Sara, twenty-six, one of the newest members, from the northwestern New Mexico portion of the Navajo Nation. She was about five-four, had straight black hair that fell in a dazzling curtain to her waist, deeply tanned skin, and black eyes. She also had an extra dose of metaphysical that made her an asset: her grandmother had trained her in the mystical arts of her tribe. Though still too young to be a full shaman, she was undoubtedly gifted, the peppery aura of power that hung around her a testament to this. She wore a long, ankle-length dress of orange, red, brown, and yellow patterned material that resembled a quilt and tied in three places along her side. Her shoes were brown leather flats and her only flash of accessory was the necklace she always wore: a flattened, engraved metal oval punctured at the top and strung on a thin leather rope.

Elise spoke for the group: “Oba, Neiterkob: thank you for inviting us. We are honored by your request.”

Clearblue smiled broadly at the four of them. They were quite a sight to behold. “Thank you for agreeing to this. We are expecting our visitors shortly. Clover, Asher, and I will handle them; you aren’t required to do anything except show deference to the Oba when she arrives.”

“May I say you all look lovely,” Asher said, and gave them his best smile. It worked: all four blushed to varying degrees. “I would also like to add that, if we encounter any sort of confrontation, we have guards posted in the back hallway. Do as they say, keep your wits about you, and you will be fine.”

The hyenas nodded and sat on chairs and loveseats, transitioning into nonchalance as they did so. At least _they_ weren’t nervous.

A short while later, a guard hurried in from the upper level with news: “They’re here.”

Clearblue glanced to Clover, who came to her side and touched a sure hand to her elbow.

For the second time in half an hour, the door groaned on its hinges under its own weight and a slow, echoing progression of many feet made its way toward them.

**Chapter 11: Azra**

Clearblue held her breath as a mass of silhouettes appeared just outside the living room threshold. The two guard-escorts stood across from one another and pulled the curtains apart wide. There was interspersed whispering as each hyena spoke her name to the guard who announced her.

“Ms. Caasi; Ms. Ramla; Ms. Kiden; Ms. Fatimah; and Ms. Lewa, alphas of the Idrisid Clan.”

Each woman walked in slowly and moved silently to the right after her name. Two looked to be of Arabic descent, while the other three hailed from southern Africa. The shortest of the lot was Anita’s height, while the tallest was around five-eight; they were all slender and becoming in fine draped robes, each a different color, that brushed the tops of their sandal-clad feet. After the fifth entered, the room fell into a collective, anticipatory hush. The last figure approached the curtains, her arms before her, long graceful fingers entwined. She kept her head lowered until the guard uttered her name in his practiced oratory cadence.

“Ms. Azra, Oba of the Idrisid Clan.”

Azra stepped forward and lifted her head. Her honed gaze landed immediately on Clearblue and fixed her with its intensity. She was dressed similarly to her alphas, but whereas their attire was solidly red, orange, yellow, green, and blue, respectively, Azra’s more intricately arranged robes were multitude shades of purple, from plum to fuchsia. Her long curls of chocolate-brown hair brushed the small of her back as she walked, and when she approached Clearblue, she smelled of the same enchanting spice of her original letter.

Azra was indisputably beautiful with a regal nose, full glossy lips, and supple olive skin atop arching cheekbones that would make a photographer swoon. There was something about her face, however, that was unsettling. Clearblue almost visibly started when she realized what it was. The eyes. Azra’s eyes were not quite human.

Anita had told Clearblue about the resulting phenomenon of remaining animal for too long a period, that the eyes in human form would forever be that of the beast’s. It had happened to Micah, and a few other weres Anita had described. And now Clearblue recognized it in Azra. The Idrisid Oba’s eyes were completely black: her irises were indistinguishable from her pupils and the irises themselves larger than the average human’s. Clearblue pictured hyena eyes, black orbs settled deep into sockets surrounded by coarse fur, and saw their likeness when she looked into Azra’s countenance.

Azra took Clearblue’s hands gently into hers and leaned toward her to press their cheeks together. Though Clearblue wasn’t fond of it, cheek rubbing was the official hyena greeting, and she proceeded as expected.

“How glad I am to finally meet you,” Azra said in her charmingly accented voice.

“And I you.” Clearblue turned and gestured to Clover. “This is my Neiterkob and brother, Clover.”

Azra looked at Clover with no small amount of surprise. “A male?” She stroked one nimble finger along her jaw line as she considered him. “Things are different in the West, yes?”

In an instant her energy quadrupled, and she threw all the force and savagery of her beast at Clover, who promptly fell to his knees.

**Chapter 12: Statistics**

Sara and Elise were at Clearblue’s side in a heartbeat. The lines of Asher’s body were rigid, and Anita was scowling, though she and Jean-Claude hadn’t moved from the sofa.

Azra, oblivious to those around her, bent down and lifted Clover’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. She squinted into his face, truly perplexed. “Your hyena is certainly not strong enough to be Neiterkob.” She turned to Clearblue. “What is this?”

Clearblue glanced once at Clover, then set her eyes hard on Azra. “Clover is Neiterkob because I deemed him to be, and the clan agreed to respect him as such.”

Azra laughed aloud as she dropped her hand from Clover’s chin and stood. “ _Agreed_ to have a lesser beast in a position of power? You cannot be serious! Surely you know female hyenas are naturally dominant over the males. Why, any one of your alphas would make a better second than him.” She gestured vaguely to Clover, who was still reeling on his knees behind her.

“That may be so, but that is not what the clan and I agreed upon when I became Oba.”

Azra was unfazed by Clearblue’s stern tone. She approached Sara standing to Clearblue’s left, came so near that a short bark escaped Sara’s lips at the intrusion of personal space. Azra smiled at this, closed her eyes and inhaled.

“My dear, you have something to you. Some magic I have never felt before. You would do well as Neiterkob.”

“Clover is our Neiterkob. I stand by my Oba’s decision,” Sara replied curtly.

Azra put a finger to her lips and thought. “No, perhaps not. You are powerful but not independent enough.” In another instantaneous rush, her energy spilled out and swept through the room. She pushed it into each body around her, quickly sifting through metaphysical capabilities. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and then retracted the flow like a whip. She walked to Tanya, sitting in a chair with her legs folded beneath her. “You have been hiding.”

Tanya flashed a quick glance to Clearblue and shook her head. “I’ve been right here the whole time.” Her plush accent whorled out pleasantly as she spoke.

Azra laughed again. “No, dear. Your beast.” She reached out and brushed fingers through Tanya’s hair.

“Is this how you behave with all your hosts?” Clearblue’s voice was controlled, but the volume was very much a shout.

Azra squared her shoulders and turned to find the other Oba’s beast hovering above her in a bright yellow hologram, its fur standing on end.

“Have you come four-thousand miles just to critique my cackle? I can only assume your purpose is to form a friendly liaison, yet you have done nothing to endear yourself to me—quite the opposite.” She trembled with equal parts anger and energy.

Azra looked at her for several seconds before she dipped her head in a small bow. “You are correct. I have been most uncivilized. I apologize sincerely.”

Clearblue nodded. “I accept.” After a few deep breaths, her ghost-hyena retreated back into her body.

“Come, let us sit.” Azra walked to one of the empty loveseats with Clearblue behind her. They sat close together and Azra held Clearblue’s hands once more. “Perhaps an explanation will help you better understand my motive.” She paused and closed her eyes. “Our clan is named for the Idrisid Dynasty that ruled Morocco for nearly two-hundred years, between seven eighty-eight and nine eighty-five C.E. Our first Oba was a member of the royal family and named the cackle to reflect this. Although I am of Arabic blood and the clan hails from Morocco, the Idrisid have many members from other countries, including Mali, Libya, Chad, Sudan, Uganda, and Kenya. There were of course clans that existed before us, but no other has been so successful for so long a time, and bouda from across northern and central Africa flock to Morocco in the hope of joining our clan. You see, where I come from, bouda do not play second fiddle to the leopard or lion. We boast eight-thousand four-hundred twelve members and are the largest group of any animal in the north of the continent.”

Clearblue couldn’t stop her eyes from widening at this information.

“Yes, we are very proud of our influence,” Azra added with a demure smile.

“That’s impressive, but I still don’t exactly understand what calls for a visit.”

“Well, while we are without a doubt the dominant beast of our region, lion rules southern Africa, with hawk and black mamba tied at a close second. This is why we have come: to expand the reach of the bouda beyond its birthplace.”

“We in St. Louis are proof of that success.”

“Do you not know, then?” Azra’s expression turned serious. “The big cats have spread their strains to most parts of the world—even the tiger, which has lost at least one color clan, still holds sway across Asia and India. Raptors are common to all continents, as are wolves, rats, and to a lesser extent, bears. However, the two of us upon this settee represent the largest known cackles of spotted hyena in the world.”

It took a moment for this to register. “That can’t be,” Clearblue replied, unconvinced.

“It is, my dear, I have done the research myself. The Kabultiloa are the only formal cackle in North America. There are a handful of insignificant groups—only one hundred or so individuals each—in Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Turkey, but these are the striped variety. Likewise, there are some numbers of brown hyena in southernmost Africa. They are our cousins, yes, but not our sisters. Our sisters are those in this room.”

“I have rouges stay at my house on a weekly basis.”

Azra shrugged. “There are untold numbers of rogue wereanimals of all kinds.”

Clearblue narrowed her eyes. “Even supposing you’re right about this, what can we do about it?”

A smile broke slowly over Azra’s face. “Why, that is the very reason I have come.”

**Chapter 13: _Effeuiller la Marguerite_**

Azra had not wanted to go into further detail about her thoughts on the hyena population that evening. Instead, she’d introduced Clearblue and, begrudgingly, Clover to her alphas, and Clearblue had done the same. Upon Azra’s introduction to Jean-Claude and Anita, she was again stunned by the complicated relationships of the Master and his servant, though any objection she had on the subject was quieted at meeting Asher. She was rather taken with him; Clearblue even saw her blush—and, alarmingly, felt a reflex twinge of jealousy at this.

The Idrisid visitors only stayed for a total of an hour-and-a-half. For all her considerable arrogance and entitlement, Azra was at least aware of the time and courteously insisted on leaving at nine on the dot to allow Clearblue enough sleep for work the next day. When Clearblue walked Azra and her alphas out to the parking lot, the latter requested their next meeting, on Thursday, be held in the ballroom of her hotel. Clearblue found no issue with this. It was understandably easier that way: navigating foreign city streets with five people in tow was cumbersome, to say the least.

***

On Wednesday at seven PM, following an easy day at the office, Clearblue dialed the Circus and asked for Asher. She took a breath in the few moments before he answered.

“ _Oui_?”

“Hi.”

“Hello, _cherie_. How are you this evening?” She felt his smile through the phone, which made what she had to say even more difficult.

“I’m well, thank you. Listen, I need to tell you something, and I’d prefer to do it in person.”

There was a pause before he replied, “I see.”

“Shall I come to the Circus?”

“ _Oui_ , that would be better.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

Clearblue had already eaten dinner and was dressed in jeans and an oversized cream-colored wool sweater, and didn’t actually need time to prepare to leave, but it did her good in steeling her nerves. It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?

The hyenas on guard duty had apparently been briefed on her arrival and greeted her with hugs and kisses. They escorted her through the cave and into one of the smaller sitting rooms, where Asher was already perched comfortably on a loveseat. He nodded to the escorts and they closed the door behind them.

“ _Cherie_.” Asher patted the seat beside him.

Clearblue did as he requested and sat with her legs crossed.

He smiled curiously at her. “Now, what is it that must be said in person?”

“It’s about our abstinence pact,” she began.

“Oh?” He brightened and stroked fingertips over her knee.

“There’s no way to lead into this gently, so I’ll just say it: last Saturday after the party at Danse Macabre, I slept with J.J.”

Asher’s fingers froze, as did his face. “J.J.?”

“Jason’s girlfriend. She was in town for the weekend and we were out at the club together and she kissed me and then I ended up at her hotel.” The words spilled from her lips in an ever-quickening wave. “I didn’t think it was a problem, since I assumed you were sleeping with Anita and Jean-Claude, but I spoke with Anita about it and she informed me that you weren’t.”

He withdrew his hand and held both together in his lap. “That is correct, I am not.”

“I’m sorry, Asher. When we decided on that pact, I thought it was just between us. I didn’t think you would refrain entirely from sex.”

When he looked at her again his gaze was piercing. “You did not think that I would, or that I could?” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice: he was angry, the first time Clearblue had seen him so.

She opened her mouth, but no sound resulted; she didn’t know how to answer him.

“This is how you think of me: a man who cannot control himself?”

“No, Asher, that’s not—”

“But, it is.” He stood from the loveseat, appalled. “Let me tell _you_ something: I survived in Belle’s court not on my abilities, nor diplomatic behavior, nor even my looks. I survived on my control—emotional _and_ sexual control. Jean-Claude and I both did. Belle is an unrestrained narcissist who demands constant attention and obedience. Control of oneself in order to better serve her was, often, the difference between life and death.” Only when he finished, and the silence rushed in after the last echo of his voice, did she realize he’d been shouting.

“I apologize for underestimating you.” Her voice was almost a whisper compared to his.

Asher made no reply. He threw up his arms, huffed with obvious vexation, turned on his heel and left. The door slammed against the wall behind it, shuddering with the force of his exit. She hardly had time to be shocked before a hand reached out and caught it on its return swing before it could make contact with the frame. The hand’s owner stepped through the threshold and closed the door softly.

The Master of the City stood a few feet from her and steepled his fingers against his mouth as he looked at her in contemplation. “When Anita told me of your night with J.J. and your plan to speak about it with Asher, I expected a disturbance. I did not, however, expect a disturbance such as the one I just heard. There are few things that rouse Asher to visible emotion, and it seems that you are one of them.”

Clearblue suddenly found herself apologizing to her second vampire of the night. “I’m sorry, Jean-Claude. No one was meant to hear that. I thought talking at the Circus would be easiest, but—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “ _Non_. I am not angry. I am surprised, but not angry. In November, I asked you to settle things with Asher, and it looks like you are doing just that.”

Now she was confused. “I don’t follow.”

“He can be rather hot-headed in matters concerning those he loves.” Jean-Claude gave her a small smile.

**Chapter 14: Second Opinion**

Thursday passed agonizingly slowly. Jean-Claude’s comment had managed to oust Clearblue’s residual anxiety about Azra and refocus it on Asher. She had thought things were going so well between them, professionally. How could she have missed that? Surely Jean-Claude was mistaken. She pushed the thought out of her head until lunch time, when she met Anita at their bistro.

“I’m sure you heard about last night,” Clearblue said immediately upon sitting.

“I hear lots of things. You’ll have to be more specific.” Anita smirked.

Clearblue sighed. “My fight with Asher and a certain master vampire’s conclusion about it.”

She took a long sip of water. “Oh that. Yep, I did hear.”

“And?”

She shrugged.

“What do you think about it?!”

“I think the fact that you’re so interested in what _I_ think says something about what _you_ think. C’mon, doc.”

“Don’t play the psychology game with me, Anita. I’m serious. You know Jean-Claude better than I do: was he being sincere?”

Anita chuckled. “Alright, alright. Yes, Jean-Claude was being sincere, and yes, he knows Asher very well. However, Jean is also a romantic. That’s not to say I don’t think it’s possible that Asher is in love with you, but don’t discount the roles of infatuation and forbidden fruit. I honestly don’t think Jean-Claude would’ve fallen for me if I hadn’t been so stubborn in the beginning. Men always want what they can’t have, and right now, you’re the one person—probably on the entire planet—who can resist Asher’s charms. Of course he’s jealous you slept with someone else, and of course he wants you more because of it. But does all that equate to love? I don’t know.”

Clearblue nodded vigorously. “Yes, thank you. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” She let out her breath in a rush.

A boyishly handsome young waiter approached their table, smiled broadly, and asked, “The usual, ladies?”

Anita turned to him. “Hey Jamie. Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

He didn’t write it down; he’d been waiting on them for three months, usually one or two times a week, and knew their orders by heart. He smiled brightly again and left in a flourish.

Once he was gone, Anita changed the subject abruptly. “So what’s your sense of Azra?”

“I think the fact that you’re so interested in what I think says something about what you think,” Clearblue quoted back to her with a jesting grin.

Anita rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Cut the crap.”

“The only thing I can say with certainty is that I don’t trust her. I don’t like that she was able to track down my old address from halfway across the world; I don’t like how confrontational and rude she was with Clover; and I don’t like her arrogance. More to the point, I don’t like her eyes. From what you’ve told me about Micah, I know that sometimes wereanimals don’t _choose_ to stay in beast form for long enough to permanently change their eyes—but sometimes they do, and I can’t help but wonder about her circumstances.”

“I couldn’t agree more. From the moment she walked into the living room I felt like something was off about her. I can’t put my finger on it, exactly, but that may be because I don’t have a hyena. And that address trick set off my alarm bells, too. What kind of resources does she have that she can pinpoint someone’s location on another continent?” Anita shook her head. “We should tread lightly around her, be on our toes.”

Clearblue nodded. “If I could, may I request an extra unit of guards to accompany us to her hotel tonight?”

“I think that’s a smart idea.”

Jamie returned with their meals. “One ham and Swiss; one turkey on rye.” With the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, the women had prime viewing of the corded muscles in his forearms as he set their plates down before them. “Enjoy!”

Anita saw Clearblue staring at Jamie’s finely sculpted arms and kicked her discreetly under the table.

Clearblue ignored her. Instead, she looked up at him with big sultry eyes and smiled coyly. “Thank you, Jamie.”

He blinked and blushed and nodded, then backed away, almost knocking into another server.

Anita crossed her arms under her bust. “ _Really_? He can’t be more than twenty years old!”

But Clearblue wasn’t looking at her; she was still tracing Jamie across the room with her eyes. “I never noticed how attractive he is. And so tall. Tall and strong and handsome . . .”

Anita kicked her again, harder, and Clearblue winced. “You _need_ to get this abstinence thing under control. Fucking J.J. was a bad move: now you’ve opened the flood gates.”

Clearblue chuckled. “I’m just looking! —As if you didn’t notice!”

**Chapter 15: Thickening**

That evening, the large group arrived in the front drive of the Chase Park Plaza Hotel in separate parties: Asher, Jean-Claude, Anita, Damian, and Nathaniel in one car; Clearblue, Clover, Bacchus, and Ares in another; Elise, Claire, Sara, and Tanya in Elise’s car; a carful of guards to accompany them in, and a second carful to stake out the perimeter. All were dressed as formally as before, though Clearblue noticed the women had chosen versatility over femininity: her four alphas were all in trousers and flat shoes instead of skirts and heels, as were she and Anita.

The individuals greeted one another briefly but warmly—except for Asher. He was aloof in every sense of the word and wouldn’t so much as look at Clearblue when she attempted to smile at him. In any other situation she would have let him be, but they needed to be solid when they went in, a team. He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, and inspected his shoes.

Clearblue walked deliberately up to him and spoke softly. “I know you’re still upset with me. Perhaps my timing is at fault, but for tonight, you need to let it go.”

He finally made eye contact with her, and it wasn’t pretty: all that anger from the previous evening was still very present. Clearblue dipped her head closer to his, despite the chokingly thick negativity he projected. “Please, Asher. Can’t we just pause this for one night? I don’t trust Azra, and we need to be strong in front of her or I have a feeling she’ll use it against us.”

Asher closed his eyes and pressed his lips together for a long moment. “I hate that you are right.” He sighed heavily. “ _Oui_ , I will play my part, but this does not change my feeling toward you at the moment.”

She nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

Clearblue and Anita headed up the group as they walked into the hotel lobby. Anita glanced behind them to Nathaniel and Damian; she leaned into Clearblue and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my triumvirate. Azra puts me on edge and I don’t want to interfere with your meeting. Damian helps me stay calm.”

“Oh, not at all. The more support, the better. Plus, if Azra tries to influence my hyena, I think having another wereanimal energy will come in handy.”

Anita grinned. “Exactly.” As the two of them approached the front desk, she motioned for the others to hang back.

The prim woman in a sharp white blouse and flawless elegant updo smiled pleasantly. “You must be here for the business conference; we’ve all been looking forward to your arrival! I’ll alert the bellboy to escort you.”

Before she could pick up the phone receiver, Clearblue asked, “Who all?”

“Oh, the shortlist of staff still working tonight. We only have ten of us for the duration of Ms. Azra’s stay.”

Clearblue scrutinized the lobby for the first time. It was everything an expensive, five-star hotel should boast: high-ceilings, an enormous white-and-gold swirled marble floor with the occasional column, polished wood furniture, and lush Persian rugs. But it was the lack of other people that was out of place. There were no guests milling about, no valet or concierge attendants—their group comprised the only bodies in the vicinity.

Suddenly, she felt as though her stomach was slowly sinking into quicksand. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer, but asked anyway: “Why just ten of you?”

The woman blinked at her. “Because Ms. Azra has reserved the entire hotel until Saturday morning.” She paused. “Shall I call the bellboy now?”

Clearblue could only nod, and the woman went about the task. She looked to Anita, alarmed, and saw a perfect reflection of her emotion.

**Chapter 16: Raising the Stakes**

A million questions bubbled in the back of her throat, and she wanted just five minutes to discuss this new information with Anita, Asher, and Jean-Claude. But they didn’t have five minutes—they barely had five _seconds_ before a young man in a red-and-black uniform bounded up to them, an oppressive smile on his face. He said something generic about making their acquaintance and to follow him, but Clearblue wasn’t paying attention in the slightest.

The rooms in the Chase Park went for at least two-hundred a night, the suites for probably about three-fifty or four-hundred, and who-knew how much for the penthouses. With three years’ salary, _maybe_ could she afford to rent the entire hotel for a week. And that was a big maybe. Azra had obviously planned the ballroom meeting far beforehand, which meant she had a lot riding on it. Not good. The only outward sign Clearblue showed of her distress, however, was a loaded glance to Anita, who had donned her own version of the closed-off vampire mask, which mean she was worried, too. Even worse.

She snapped her attention back to the bellboy in time to watch him pull open a ten-foot, heavy wooden door and extend his arm to invite them in. She heard the soft _smack_ of the door as it came to a rest against its frame behind them. Apparently, “ballroom” really meant ballroom: the vaulted, shadowed space had a ceiling as high as the lobby, which was covered in an exquisite oil painting depicting a pastoral scene, outlined with ornate gold molding. The expansive floor was the same white-and-gold marble and was cleared of all furniture, save for seven hard-backed chairs arranged in a line, set across from an easy chair of embroidered upholstery.

There was movement behind the easy chair, and suddenly Azra stepped out. She was dressed in mesmerizing gold and bronze robes draped over one shoulder and wrapped tightly around her bosom. Her hair was up, atop her head in a curling ponytail that reached her mid-back; it drew all the attention to her arrestingly lovely face, highlighted subtly with makeup.

She flashed them a devastating smile. “How wonderful to see you all again, and some newcomers as well. I invite you to please have a seat, although, regrettably, I did not request enough chairs for everyone. I was unaware you would bring such a large group.”

Anita glanced at Clearblue, a hint to take charge. “Oh, that’s quite alright.”

She forced a smile and sat in the middle chair, and Clover, Asher, and their alphas followed suit. Anita and the others stood clustered about two yards behind, while the guards fanned out in a semi-circle.

Azra sat in the easy chair and crossed her legs. “First, thank you for meeting me here. I appreciate your flexibility. Let me come to the point: the meager hyena population is troublesome to me. I am here to formally apply for your aid on this issue.” 

“I will help to the best of my ability. Do you have a plan in mind?” Clearblue replied.

“I do. However, based on what I have seen of your clan, I do not think you will be keen on it, and so I am prepared with incentive.” She smiled again after she said this, but her expression could not hide the ferocity of her voice.

Clearblue’s stomach dropped out completely, but she kept her face blank. “What’s that?” She tried to sound as uninterested as possible.

Azra’s peculiar eyes lingered on Clearblue for some seconds, evaluating her, before she nodded to an unseen someone in the back right corner of the room. A door opened far off, and then shortly, the unmistakable sounds of struggle bounced from the marble to the ceiling and back, a haunting preamble to the arrival of whoever was being dragged across the floor to join them.

Two figures neared their congregation: one pulled unwillingly by the back of his shirt, the other Clearblue recognized as Azra’s dominant, Ramla.

“What the hell is this?” she said, and stood from her chair. “Your incentive?”

“No, my dear. This is my plan.”

Ramla brought the squirming young man to Azra’s feet, and Clearblue saw that his hands and feet were bound with zip ties and a cloth was shoved into his mouth. He whipped his head frantically around, trying to get a sense of his location—but when he saw Clearblue, his terrified eyes froze on her face.

It was Jamie, from the bistro.

**Chapter 17: Behind Door Number Two**

She didn’t need to look behind her; she knew Anita had seen Jamie, and was just as outraged. Clearblue opted not to respond—she glared at Azra, let all that she felt into her eyes and projected it at the other Oba. Her beast stirred and began to pace the dusty grass of her mind.

“I have a confession.” Azra slipped off one sandal and combed her toes through Jamie’s hair. “I had you followed earlier today. My spy reported seeing you enamored of this young man— _quite_ young, I must say, but I do not judge others’ tastes. I decided to bring him here, to present to you.”

Clearblue’s words were sharp: “To what purpose?”

“Why, as a potential mate. You and your master were very business-like with one another at our first meeting, too proper to be lovers. I surmised that you and he are not together.” Azra’s attention moved to Asher and she unabashedly drank him in. “Your Neiterkob is your brother and the other males you treat as friends. You are not with anyone, yet you desire this man. As you are a beautiful woman, the only plausible explanation is that you are shy, and so I thought to give you an opportunity.” She lifted Jamie’s chin with her big toe, tilted it up to give Clearblue a better view. “I know he desires you as well; my spy made note of the way he looked at you in the restaurant.”

Clearblue’s laugh was gratingly acidic. “You’re attempting to _bribe_ me with him?” She nodded down at Jamie. “I don’t know him well at all— _never mind_ that it’s hardly your place to choose my lovers. Your audacity is boundless.”

“Yes, audacity, I am guilty of that. One cannot survive as a leader without it.” Azra bent and jerked Jamie to his knees in a move so swift it was almost invisible. A moment later, she ripped the shirt from his chest, and he winced at the chafing. She sat carefully on the floor beside him and played her fingers lightly down his impressively muscled torso. “He is handsome, is he not?”

Her beast yowled at Azra’s display. The hyena’s fur stood on end all over, and her human spine bowed, and her muscles tightened as a result.

Azra chuckled at her reaction. “How can it be that you do not know him well, yet you feel so strongly for him in this moment?”

She took in a deep breath and held it, willing her hyena into submission. It worked, temporarily—the beast’s message was clear: _Handle this, or I will._ Silently, she walked to Azra and knelt with her, so close her body was almost touching Jamie. Though subdued, her beast was still very present, and she drew on its energy as she spoke.

“I don’t know what you have in mind with him, but I will not tolerate threats.” Her words puffed out in whispers, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t have heard, were they not supernatural. “In fact, I will not tolerate anything less than respect, which you have yet to show me. You insult Clover, flirt shamelessly with Asher, and now you bring in a _human_ into a wereanimal meeting? You are not only irresponsible, but crass to boot.”

Clearblue put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and began to lift him with her as she stood, when there was a thick, nauseating ripping sound, followed by a splash of liquid on the floor. The same instant, Jamie screamed: long and piercing and chilling. Clearblue looked down to see a hyena paw protruding from a hole the size of a fist in his stomach. Blood cascaded down his torso and quickly began to pool on the floor before him. Azra pulled her paw out slowly from Jamie’s back, looking steadfastly at Clearblue as she did so. She closed her eyes and sensuously licked the blood off clean, then shifted the limb back to a human arm.

“Oh my God!” a woman cried from behind them. It was either Claire or Tanya.

“Sara,” Clearblue said curtly. Her alpha appeared at her shoulder. “Get him out of here and take care of him, the best you can.”

Sara inclined her head. “Yes, Oba.”

She lifted Jamie and gracelessly but efficiently hauled him off to a distant corner of the room. His screaming gradually subsided to pathetic whimpering. Clearblue wasn’t sure which was worse.

As soon as Sara and Jamie were out of sight, she shifted her own hand to a paw and swiped Azra hard across the face. The other Oba fell to the floor, dark red blood from her cheek dripping to the smooth marble, a companion puddle to Jamie’s.

“You’re _sick_ ,” she spat. “That’s your plan, then? Not only is it illegal, but I would never agree to such immoral behavior.”

Azra sat up, touched her wound and studied the blood before she licked it from her fingers. “Yes, well, it is illegal in Morocco also. Fortunately, it is difficult to prove the means of lycanthropy transmission—it is simply a ‘she said, she said’ dispute, or what have you. And who wants to badmouth the head of one’s new family?”

Clearblue shook with a cocktail of emotions: shock, disgust, resentment, and briefly, pity—not for Azra, but for her cackle and her alphas, who she undoubtedly made do her dirty work. “It shouldn’t have to be said, but I’ll say it anyway, to be crystal clear: I want nothing to do with you or your clan. If I ever see anyone affiliated with the Idrisid in St. Louis again, I will kill without a second thought. Do you understand me?”

Azra laughed, almost cheerfully. “Such anger! You are adorable, my dear.”

And she went right on laughing, until Clearblue’s hyena could take no more. Her hands and feet shifted to paws in a blink, and she lunged. Before she realized it, she was atop Azra: foreclaws embedded in the exposed flesh of her upper chest and shoulders, while her hindclaws sank through Azra’s robes into the meat of her thighs. Clearblue held Azra firmly beneath her, pinned to the floor like a beetle on display. Blood oozed from the many lacerations and soaked through Azra’s elegant robes, which stuck to her breasts and the curves of her body like a macabre leotard. Still, she laughed, and the longer she did so more enraged Clearblue became.

“Now, now. You have had your fun.”

She couldn’t have cared less about the words. It was the unfamiliar voice that stopped her—a man’s voice, with an accent reminiscent of Azra’s, but milder. A figure approached from one heavily shadowed wall. His energy filled the room as easily as filling a cup, and smothered them as it did so. The air on her skin was so laden with power, she felt as if it was suddenly humid July in the ballroom.

“Fuck.” That voice she did know: Anita’s.

She turned in time to see Anita press her lips together and cross her arms: defensive body language that said she no longer wanted to be there. Not even a little bit. And then, as the figure stepped into the light, Damian jumped, and clung tightly to Anita and Nathaniel. Even from some yards away, Clearblue could see he was trembling.

**Chapter 18: More to the Story**

The man looked to be just shy of six foot. His thick black hair fell in waves to his shoulders, and like Azra, he was olive-complected and of Arab descent. Also like Azra, he was beautiful. His dark hair set his masculine face into relief, and added to this striking countenance were heterochromatic eyes: the left, blue, the right, brown. He was dressed in a loose gold tunic-like shirt spun in a light-weight material, matching pants, and black satin slippers that peeped out from beneath the cuffs.

His demeanor was the epitome of nonchalance: he acted entirely as if it _wasn’t_ strange he was there. “Azra!” His voice was at once fluid and gruff as it glided from his lips. “I just bought you those robes and now they are ruined! You always take your games too far.” He stood over Clearblue still atop Azra, both frozen and looking up at him.

Azra threw Clearblue off her and came up to her knees, took his hand and covered it with kisses. “I apologize for the robes, master. You need not replace them; I have enough at home.”

“That you do.” He surveyed the others standing behind them, specifically, the huddled bunch of Anita, Nathaniel, and Damian. On spotting the red-haired vampire, a grin overcame his face. “How good to see you once more, Damian. I was not sure you would survive under The Dark One’s rule.” His tone and expression were sincere; only the gleam in his eyes gave away his heavier intent.

Damian shuddered again and moved further behind Anita, trying for all the world to hide in her hair. Clearblue watched the anger melt from Anita’s face. In its place there was nothing: a cold blank mask of concentration. Bad sign. A glance to Asher confirmed what she already thought: do something before Anita goes ape-shit.

Clearblue returned her paws to hands and feet, righted herself and stood before the new addition. She bowed deeply. “I am Clearblue Aldan, Oba of the St. Louis bouda, the Kabultiloa Clan.”

“Clearblue. You are whom Azra is here to negotiate with, yes?” His eyes were penetrating, and he held her fast in his gaze. “I am Nazir, Azra’s master, and Master of the City of Fes. I do not know yet if I am pleased to meet you. We shall see.”

“Yes, we will.” She looked over her shoulder at Asher, who didn’t need more of a hint and joined her, looping his arm with hers.

He bowed to Nazir, though it was not quite as deferential. “I am Asher.” After a pause, he added, “Your hyena has been most uncivil. I hope you are here to correct her.”

“Azra has always been difficult. She is powerful, and arrogant because of it. I cannot name how many instances I have reminded her of the wonders of modesty, but she hardly listens to me.” His eyes fell to the individual in question, still kneeling before him. “Perhaps a bout of punishment is in order.”

Azra cringed at this, but said nothing.

Nazir walked to the easy chair and sat. “Now, I believe we were in the middle of a discussion about the bouda?”

“Actually, Azra and I had just concluded the topic. She wants to turn humans against their will, and did so to one just recently in my presence. For obvious reasons, I cannot support this. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, I do. But _you_ must understand that Azra enjoys showing off. It was in bad taste to use violence to make her point, though surely this does not leave you entirely indifferent to the subject. As an Oba, you must have some feelings toward the scant hyena population.”

“While I find the situation regrettable, I don’t see how I can help. Purposely infecting humans with lycanthropy is illegal in most countries, and I refuse to break the law for such a petty reason.”

Nazir pursed his lips as he regarded her. “Perhaps it does not have to be against one’s will; perhaps you could recruit.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“The government cannot intervene if humans _willingly_ receive lycanthropy. Advertise the benefits of becoming a wereanimal: increased strength, speed, and healing capabilities, heightened psychic sensibility, the opportunity to join a familial community. Can you not recruit humans to your cackle?”

“I could. But that doesn’t mean I will. I don’t know how I stand on that, morally. It still seems fishy. Why is Azra obsessed with this?”

Nazir was silent for so long that she didn’t think he would answer. But then, he did. “The lion prides of southern Africa have been encroaching further and further into our lands. Additionally, there have been hyena deaths throughout Sudan, Chad, and Niger, even one or two in south Libya. We cannot confirm absolutely that it is the work of the lions, but we suspect strongly that this is the case. So far, the authorities have no leads on the fourteen deaths within a three-month period. Azra has spoken with the Rex of the foremost pride several times, and has even threatened him. He remains unmoved. We do not believe he gave specific orders to his people to kill hyenas, but he undoubtedly knows about it and is doing nothing. This is unacceptable. We have tried everything. And now we have come to you.”

Clearblue didn’t respond for some seconds after he finished speaking. She looked at Azra, still slumped on the floor. Though her head was lowered, Clearblue saw that her cheeks were shining.

**Chapter 19: Change of Heart**

Nazir kept his gaze fixed on Clearblue’s face as she waded through several emotions in succession: rejection, disbelief, acceptance, pity, and even a touch of sympathy. “You believe us,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question; it was an observation.

“I think I do. Though, I’m now more confused by Azra’s behavior, if this is really the case.”

Nazir sighed. “Azra is stubborn and proud. She was confidant she could convince the Rex to see things her way, and was angered when he did not. Then she resorted to threats; those did not work either. She is normally very strong-willed, but when one has the—how you say—rug pulled from beneath her, there is little to keep the spirit going. She is bitter about what has happened, indeed, what continues to happen to our clan. The hyenas are being targeted because of our powerbase and our landholdings, and we are completely at the lions’ mercy.” He paused and met the eyes of Asher, Clover, and the three remaining alphas, then turned them again on the Kabultiloa Oba. “You do not realize how blessed you are, to have a cooperative wereanimal community here. We in Morocco are so far removed from that kind of harmony it is alien to us. If you will, think for a moment on how you would react, were you in Azra’s situation: backed against a wall with nowhere to turn.”

It was Clearblue’s turn to sigh. “I would probably be inconsolable and irrational as well.” An instant later, her expression reverted to serious. “Even given these circumstances, what was your intent, had you convinced me to go along with your plan? Overwhelm the lions with sheer numbers? I can’t see how a bunch of newly-turned hyenas would’ve made a difference.”

Nazir began to speak, but Azra interrupted him. It was the first time she’d made a sound since his arrival. “I am not entirely sure myself, to be honest.” She pulled herself up off the floor and walked slowly to Clearblue, avoiding eye contact. “I thought if we only had more bodies to work with, an answer would come. The Idrisid is the only cackle of hyenas, yet there are five major lion prides in southern Africa. We outnumber them individually, but banded together they drown us.”

“Have you talked with all the Rexes?”

“That is unnecessary. Lions are fiercely competitive, and due to the inevitable infighting, many prides cannot grow very large. However, Diallo, the Rex of the most powerful pride, has managed to corral the others into a kind of treaty. The Rexes of the remaining four prides maintain their power within their own groups, but also serve Diallo as vassals. The Rexes stand with Diallo as one, now; I did not need to meet with them separately.”

Clearblue scrunched her nose. “How’d Diallo do that?”

“He is very intelligent, but as to the particulars, I have no idea.”

She nodded, and then looked for a long beat at Asher, still by her side.

“ _Cherie_?”

She didn’t answer him, but stepped forward and hugged Azra tightly. Surprised, Azra’s limbs hung limply at first, but she returned Clearblue’s embrace and pressed her face to latter’s neck. Clearblue closed her eyes and saw Azra’s beast sitting forlornly amid a plain of dry brush. Her own hyena trotted up and rubbed her muzzle against Azra’s.

**Chapter 20: Picking Up the Pieces**

Clearblue pulled away and held Azra by the shoulders. “Would you meet us at the Circus of the Damned tomorrow? For a one last meeting before you leave on Saturday? I want to help you and your clan, but I must speak to my associates first.”

Azra smiled slowly, hopeful. “Why, yes, of course.”

“Excellent. How about tomorrow evening at eight?”

“Perfect.”

Clearblue returned her smile. “Good. Then, if you’ll excuse us, we have much to talk about.”

Azra nodded.

Clearblue didn’t make an announcement; everyone in the room had heard her conversation. She turned and walked toward the exit, which is where Sara had taken the wounded Jamie.

Her alphas were close at hand when she turned to them and said, “Elise, I’m riding with you, Sara, and Jamie in your car. Tanya, Claire, go with Clover.”

“Yes, Oba,” Claire said before she and Tanya scurried out, followed by Clover.

Damian and Nathaniel hustled past next, Damian clinging so closely to the wereleopard they looked like conjoined twins. Anita approached Clearblue just and Elisa and Sara hoisted Jamie between them and walked toward the door. She said nothing, but the look on her face was enough: there was still anger present, and curiosity now, too. Clearblue nodded at her, a gesture that meant _I’ll explain everything at the Circus._ Satisfied, Anita made her exit behind the alphas and Jamie. Ares made fleeting eye contact with her as he left with Bacchus. Finally, Asher, Jean-Claude, and the contingent of guards made their way to her. Asher extended his hand, and Clearblue took it. They walked swiftly out of the ballroom, never looking behind them.

The scene in the front drive wasn’t as chaotic as she’d expected. Clover had orchestrated everyone well and they were all in or headed to their proper cars. She turned to Asher. “Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot.”

“You are welcome.” He gave her a half-smile, then turned to Jean-Claude and conferred in French as they made their way to Anita’s vehicle—doubtless hypothesizing about what she had in mind.

“Oba!” Sara’s voice rang out suddenly.

Elise’s blue SUV screeched to a halt in front of her. Sara threw open one rear door and waved Clearblue in frantically. _Shit, Jamie!_ She climbed into the backseat across from Sara with Jamie stretched out between them atop a towel. He had stopped bleeding, for the most part, but was shaking violently. She held his head on her lap and Sara secured his torso and legs.

“He was fine before. He just started convulsing when we put him in the car.” Sara’s voice carried the beginning edge of panic.

“He’s in shock.” Clearblue looked up at Elise’s worried face in rearview mirror. “We’ll take care of him, just get us to the Circus.”

Elise nodded, put the car in gear, and they lurched forward.

“My prayers heal the spirit and mind, not the body. There wasn’t much I could do for him except put him at ease.” The passing streetlights reflected in Sara’s unshed tears as she spoke.

“This is not your fault. He’ll be okay—he just looks bad right now.” Clearblue didn’t meet her eyes to see if Sara believed her; instead, she rolled up her sleeves and focused her energy.

She positioned her hands over the gaping hole in Jamie’s abdomen, which at the moment was filled with blood-soaked fabric. Sara had torn off part of her tunic and stuffed it into the wound to stop the bleeding. Smart at the time, but it made for a tricky situation now. She removed the wad of clothing as carefully as she could, but still a spurt of blood gushed out and Jamie groaned in agony. Sara put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. The wound filled with blood and spilled onto the towel; Clearblue had to close her eyes to keep her nerves steady. She felt that cool power swell inside her and called it up, up from her gut into her shoulders and arms, and finally into her hands. She pushed it in a steady stream into Jamie, as fast as she could without damaging him further. Wet sounds followed, sounds of skin and organs mending. And though they were somewhat grotesque to hear, she was able to stomach them because she knew they marked Jamie’s survival. Unfortunately, Sara didn’t fare as well.

“Elise, pull over, quick!”

Elise did so without question, and Sara managed to crawl out of the car and retch onto the half-frozen ground. After that brief interruption, however, they continued without trouble. Jamie’s wound had healed almost completely, and with a dose of Sara’s magic, he was sleeping soundly with a faint smile on his lips when they pulled into the Circus parking lot.

Ares and Bacchus were waiting for them outside the door, and ran to help carry Jamie. Clearblue followed them in while dialing Dr. Lillian’s number. She explained the circumstance and Lillian assured her she’d be at the Circus within the hour.

When the living room curtains parted, she was greeted with some anxious and some concerned expressions. Bacchus and Ares, supporting the unconscious Jamie between them, had entered first, and Bacchus looked back at her for direction.

“Take him to the closest sitting room. Lillian said she’ll be here shortly.”

After they hauled him off through the back hallway, Anita stood and spoke. “You _aren’t_ considering what Azra suggested. Tell me you’re not.”

“I’m not. What I _am_ considering is going to Morocco and supporting her first-hand.”

Apparently, Anita hadn’t thought that a viable option, judging from her open mouth. Asher jumped to his feet and spoke rapidly in French, his head swiveling between Clearblue and Jean-Claude. Elise and Sara remained quiet and sat together on the sofa. While Sara tried her best to keep her face blank, Elise was unabashedly skeptical.

**Chapter 21: Come to Light**

While Jean-Claude and Asher engaged in a flurried conversation in their mother tongue, Anita spoke over them: “So you’re just going to pick up and go to Morocco on a whim?”

“Well, yes.” She paused before adding, “Though I would like your help.”

“Wait, wait.” Anita put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Azra shows up in St. Louis almost out of the blue, behaves so undiplomatically I wanted to strangle her, _turns_ a human in front of witnesses—and you’re ready to run off with her?”

“What am I supposed to do, Anita? Let her go back to her country empty-handed to endure the lions’ aggression? Her clan is being hunted, killed off. Her _people_. I’ve only been Oba for three months, and already I feel that my hyenas are family.”

Anita sighed and stared hard at her. “And why do you need _my_ help? I’m not a hyena.”

“But you’re a lion, as am I. And you have the most experience with preternatural conflict of anyone I know. Please.”

Jean-Claude spoke before Anita could: “This is rather hasty, Clearblue. You are asking much of us.”

She looked to the floor. “I know, but I don’t have any other ideas—do you?”

Reluctantly, he shook his head.

“So we’ll do _nothing_? It hardly seems fair. They came all this way, desperate for aid!”

Anita looked from Jean-Claude and Asher to Clearblue, unsure.

In the silence that filled the room, Damian cleared his throat. “I admire your desire to help. However, you do not have all the information needed to make a decision in this matter.”

Clearblue blinked at him. In the (albeit short) time she had been associated with Jean-Claude and his affiliates, she realized she’d not actually heard Damian’s voice before. “What do you mean?” she replied after a beat.

All eyes turned to the flame-haired vampire and he looked a tad sheepish at the attention. “About Nazir. You should know about Nazir.”

In the excitement, she had momentarily forgotten Damian’s reaction when Nazir had first arrived. “What about him?”

“Nazir and I share a _sourdre de sang_ —the queen Night Hag, She-Who-Made-Me.”

If that was code for something, Clearblue wasn’t in the loop. “She-Who-Made-You? Who’s that?”

“Moroven,” Anita supplied in a cold tone; Damian flinched when she uttered the name. “She is a type of vampire—a Night Hag—who can induce and feed from fear the way Belle Morte’s line feeds from lust.” She took Damian’s hand and squeezed it. “We’ve dealt with her once or twice. She’s not our favorite person.”

Clearblue nodded and looked at Damian again. “So you have history with Nazir.”

“I do.” He took a breath in preparation. “She-Who-Made-Me enjoys her solitude, but even she betimes grows curious of the goings-on outside her castle. In the decade preceding her self-imposed isolation in Scandinavia, she traveled much of the world, visiting other Masters and seeing what she had not seen in centuries. While in Western Libya, Tripoli I believe, she chanced upon a young human, a guerrilla warrior who had aligned himself with the Germanic Vandals against the Roman forces that controlled Northern Africa. The Romans’ hold on the region was ending, helped along tremendously by the destructive Vandal tribe. Nazir was this young man, who had decided he would rather stand with the invaders than continue to submit to the Roman Empire. She-Who-Made-Me saw in him a ruthlessness she had not encountered in some time. She took him and made him her own. She found him beautiful—though not more beautiful than her, as his eyes are asymmetrically colored—and soon after he was made vampire, they were lovers. He accompanied her on the remainder of her journey before retiring with her to Scandinavia. He called her ‘The Dark One’ and it became a moniker used only in an intimately small circle of her peers. I only knew Nazir a mere twelve years: from the time I was turned to when they had a falling out. With each century he had grown steadily stronger, and when he reached five-hundred-ninety he began to rival my mistress’s abilities. They parted ways at that point, because she was intimidated, I am sure—though she never admitted it, nor did I dare ask. Last I heard, he had returned to Libya. I was not aware he could call hyena.”

That stunned everyone in the room—even Jean-Claude and Asher. Anita was the first to speak. “Damian, I had no idea. We he . . . cruel to you?”

He laughed bitterly. “Not directly, no. Nazir was more a voyeur: he found pleasure in watching She-Who-Made-Me punish us. It was foreplay to him, and after every punishment, they would retire to their chamber for raucous lovemaking.”

She grimaced.

“But that is neither here nor there. My concern is if Nazir is now as powerful as She-Who-Made-Me—or even near to her power, which I suspect he is—why can he not scare the lions into cooperating? There is something he and Azra are not telling us, Clearblue, and I am fearful of their secret.”

At this information, Clearblue met Anita’s eyes and shared a weighty expression with the necromancer.

**Chapter 22: Decision Time**

Anita reserved her decision until they confronted Azra and Nazir. Jean-Claude had voiced his opposition to this but was ignored. Asher hadn’t said much—at least in English—to anyone, though Clearblue could tell he was not a happy camper.

The next evening, she and Anita kept open minds going into the meeting with the Idrisid. It was a strictly small affair that consisted only of Clearblue, Clover, Asher, Anita, Jean-Claude, Nazir, and Azra. All were dressed more casually, and Azra was of a noticeably different demeanor: one of quiet hope. When they had chosen their seats, Anita cleared her throat and looked pointedly to the Kabultiloa Oba.

Clearblue nodded. “Before we make a formal decision,” she announced to the gathering, “Anita and I have some follow-up questions. Nazir, how powerful are you and why can you not intimidate the lions into getting along with the hyenas?”

Nazir and Azra exchanged a look, but neither replied. The master vampire closed his eyes and released his energy in a slow stream into the Circus’s living room. It was the same oppressive force they had encountered at the Chase Park, but with an extra quality to it, something lurking under the blanket of power. Clearblue’s palms felt damp, and she saw they were covered in a sudden sheen of sweat, as were, a moment later, her forehead and back of her neck.

“What . . . ” She finished that sentence with a whimper as a deep tide of fear swelled up in her stomach.

Her chest tightened, and her heart thumped rapidly. Next to her on the sofa, Anita’s body went rigid, and her dilated pupils and ghost-white complexion said she was just as frightened. And then, as inexplicably as it had come on, the fear disappeared, dissolved harmlessly into the air.

Nazir’s effort left Clearblue, Anita, and Clover panting, and had coaxed expressions of vexation from Jean-Claude and Asher—but making old and experienced vampires break blankface was a feat in itself.

“That was out of line,” Anita spat, when she regained enough breath to speak.

He looked satisfied, bordering on smug. “I disagree. Clearblue asked how powerful I am; I merely gave her a taste in answer.”

“Fine, then answer the second question: why can’t you get the lions to do as you say, if you’re so obviously powerful?”

At this, Nazir’s pleasure fell away; his eyes hardened, and his lips puckered slightly.

Azra touched a hand to his arm and said, “Tahira, Nazir’s human servant, our third. She is an Egyptologist by trade and has been on a dig for the last two months in Giza. She has traveled to Egypt several times before and although we did not hear from her daily, she made sure to keep in touch, sometimes by phone, sometimes by letter.” Azra looked gravely at Nazir. “We have heard nothing for the last three weeks. We do not know what to think: whether the lions have found and captured her, or if something unrelated has befallen her.”

“Do not be naïve!” Nazir scolded. He added something harshly in Arabic before he addressed Clearblue and Anita: “Though Azra refuses to believe the lions would go as far as—how do you say?—kidnapping, I do not put it past them. They, and especially Diallo, are ruthless and power-hungry. I await the day they come to us with Tahira as a blackmailing tool.”

Jean-Claude spoke for the first time that evening. “He is not lying.”

“ _Non_ , he is not,” Asher confirmed.

Anita crossed her arms and stared at them in contemplative silence for five long beats. “Okay, you’ve told us the truth, now we put our cards on the table. I’m primarily a necromancer, but I also have certain other abilities: I carry at least four strains of lycanthropy.” Anita gestured to Clearblue on her right. “Clearblue is a metaphysical healer and a panwere. We have a few beasts in common, one of which is lion. Clearblue wants to travel to Morocco to help you with your problem and has asked that I join her. After hearing you out in full, I agree to come along.”

Azra burst into a broad smile. “Oh, thank—”

“ _Provided_ ,” Anita interrupted in a cold tone, “that you don’t pull any more shit like you did with Jamie. You know we do things differently; you’ve said as much. Just because we’ll be on your turf doesn’t mean we’ll look the other way if you’re brutal and violent. Act like that again, and we’re on the first plane home. Got it?”

Azra nodded rapidly. “Yes.” She paused. “Thank you.”


End file.
